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We'd chosen Edinburgh in part because it was so different from any other home we'd ever known before; it was in another country, on another continent, the locals spoke our same language but in a fabulous charming accent we had to pay close attention to in order to understand. Edinburgh was far, far away from both Boston and Tucson; that was why it seemed so cool. Sure, it was a little scary moving to a city that I'd have been hard-pressed to properly locate on a map six months prior, but I'm slowly learning that scary is often exact the route you should go. It's the path you don't know, and so it offers the greatest possibilities. Take the scary path and even if where you end up doesn't work out, you tend to discover that you're infinitely stronger and more adaptable than you ever could have imagined.

We've been here seven months now, and Edinburgh is indeed lovely. It's a spectacularly beautiful city, full of gorgeous old buildings and cobblestone streets, surrounded by idyllic green farmland and rolling hills. It is, dare I saw it, indisputably prettier than my beloved Boston. And I'm happy here, in my cozy little flat, nesting with my favorite boy in the world, picking up Britishisms and getting a different perspective on the world.

But when our two years are up, I have no doubt: I'll be ready to move on. There's no way in the world I could live here forever, and for one simple reason. There are just too many hours separating me from home. And no, I'm not talking about travel time.

Because Tucson was a small city with a small airport and few direct flights for seemingly anywhere we ever wanted to go, it turns out that it doesn't take us all that much longer to get from Boston to Edinburgh as it used to take us to schlep from Tucson to Boston. So it's not the traveling hassle so much that gets to me; no, it's those pesky time zones. 

don't stop moseying: more this direction

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